


Fund

by ardett



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, College, Financial Issues, Gen, Graduation, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Very Heated Arguments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-07 23:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15918174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardett/pseuds/ardett
Summary: Peter overshares. Tony oversteps. Things spiral from there.Or Tony holds Peter’s college fund over his head and Peter doesn’t get into MIT.





	Fund

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Running](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12920976) by [Builder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder). 



> Inspired by specifically by Tony's line, "I’ll go flush your college fund down the toilet while I’m at it," and also I'm a sucker for an angsty argument. Definitely check it out!
> 
> Also, I haven't written all summer so... sorry?

The world goes out of focus. The Stark lab fades at the edges. The device he’s been tinkering with blurs. Everything appears as if under a gray film. All Peter can think about is that number, bold on the top of his English grade report for senior year.

78.

Not failing, not even really close to failing, but the worst grade Peter has had all year, the worst grade he’s ever had in a class his entire life. He can’t even pin it down to one assignment. He’s just been regularly scoring low on his essays. Not many people in the class get 90s on the essays but even compared to everyone else, Peter’s have been… lower.

He’s not disappointed necessarily. He knows he’s been working as hard as he can. He knows there are bigger things in the world than English class. (Spider-man. The Avengers. Actually saving people’s lives.) But now that he has to get the proof signed by May, he feels shame seep into him. And he knows that’s exactly what it is. Shame.

He’s ashamed over a tiny number that, against the grand scheme of things, is inconsequential, and he’s angry at himself for feeling ashamed, and his anger is almost always badly channeled frustration, and when he’s frustrated, he cries.

Which is exactly why he’s staring into space, trying to will away the tears collecting in his eyelashes.

He takes a deep breath as slowly as he can. Tries to exhale evenly. He brings up a hand to shield his eyes and hide them from where Tony sits a few seats down.

The 360 degrees cameras don’t help. Neither does FRIDAY’s watchful eye.

Red text scrolls across the screen in front of Tony. Peter’s gaze flicks over to the light.

 _Peter seems to be in distress,_ it reads.

Tony immediately swivels to face him and Peter stiffens, angling his back towards the adult. Peter sucks in a breath and grips the collar of his shirt, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as he wipes away the tears.

“Hey kid,” Tony calls. Peter hums and nods. He doesn’t turn around. “All good in the hood over there?”

“Yep.” And yep, nope, that definitely did not help his case, not with that choked voice.

“Mm, sure about that, bud?”

Peter swallows down mucus and clears his throat. “Sure, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, that’s what I want to hear except I don’t _really_ believe you so-” Tony starts rolling his chair towards Peter. “Here I come.”

Peter huffs out a laugh at the sight. “Are you scooting over to me, Mr. Stark?”

“Don’t be a smartass. Scooting is the most practical way to move in these chairs, I’ll have you know,” Tony says as he stops in front of Peter. “Now come on, out with it. What’s up?”

Peter’s smile dies out and Tony’s follows suit.

“It’s really stupid. Honestly, it’s really dumb.” Peter twists his fingers together.

“Peter, I’m sure it’s not. And even if it is, I still want to hear about it.”

“Right, okay, so… Yeah, well… I’m…” Peter’s nose scrunches before he gives a sigh. “I have a 78 in my English class. A 78 percent. It’s so bad, I mean…” He groans, hand rubbing down his face. “I guess it’s not that bad. It’s not like I’m failing or anything but it’s just really frustrating, you know? Well, you probably don’t know, you’ve been a genius since you were born. And I don’t want to make excuses, right? But it’s just hard being Spider-man and all the school work and she just- my teacher, I mean- she grades so hard. I keep offering to do extra credit for her but she says you get what you get or you shouldn’t write your papers last minute or whatever. But I’m not! I’m putting in so much work and she’s ignoring that I’m even trying. You know?”

Tony doesn’t interrupt, only nods along. His gaze is thoughtful.

Peter fidgets. He maintains a scant few seconds of quiet before he breaks again. “And I just… I don’t want to tell May. I know I have to but…” Peter fixes his eyes on the floor as they begin to water. “I’m supposed to be the smart one. That’s what her and Ben used to call me. Their smart boy. Their brilliant boy. She was so proud when I got into Midtown and… and this is just so _dumb._ ”

Peter blinks, tears in his eyelashes. He swipes at them with the heel of his palm.

“Sounds like this teacher is a real piece of work,” Tony finally contributes.

“Yeah.” Peter gives a shaky smile. “You could say that.”

“Tell you what.” Tony puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Have a good time this weekend. Go out with your friends, party, what you millenials get up to. Go back to school on Monday with a clear head. Things will work themselves out.”

“Okay,” Peter agrees, though he doubts things will simply work themselves out. Tony grins back at him.

“Great. Now let’s get back to work.”

 

Peter walks into English on Monday to find a substitute teacher. He doesn’t think on it until Ned leans over across his desk and whispers, “I don’t think Ms. Jones is coming back. I heard Flash say the school fired her over some stuff they found on her computer.”

First comes the guilt, sweeping down into his gut. And then Peter can’t help it. His blood boils.

 

“Mr. Stark!”

Peter swings through the open door of Tony’s penthouse balcony. Tony looks up from his coffee and tablet at the kitchen table, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Wasn’t expecting you today, kiddo. What you visiting me up here on cloud 9 for?”

Peter rips his mask off, fuming, “You got my teacher fired!”

“Did I?” Tony takes a sip of his coffee. “Certainly no one’s going to be able to trace anything back to me or FRIDAY, so who can say, really? And so there’s no way anyone can blame you, so don’t even worry about it. You’re welcome.”

“No!” Peter’s hands clench into fists. “I can’t believe you- you- I may not have liked her but she wasn’t a bad teacher, okay? She didn’t deserve to be fired!”

“Look, kid, it’s not like I discredited her. I can help her find a job, if it’s bothering you that much. Hell, I could get her a job at Stuyvesant.” Tony stands up and Peter tenses before realizing Tony’s only putting his mug in the sink. “She was giving you a hard time. Why are we even having this conversation?”

“Because you can’t get everything you want, just because you have the money or just because you can! You can’t just tamper with my life without telling me!” His hands clench into fists. “You can’t ruin other people’s lives because I say something to you! It’s not your job!”

“It’s not like I’m doing this for shits and giggles, kid. I’m doing this for you. She may not know you’re Spider-man, but I sure as hell do, and I’m not going to let some pretentious old lady give you a 78 while you’re out saving New York.” Tony’s fiery gaze lands on Peter. “I’m sure she got plenty of satisfaction wracking up red marks on your papers, so what’s the problem if I get some satisfaction from knocking her down a few pegs?”

Peter scowls. “Is that what this is about? Satisfaction? Is this even about me at all?”

“Of course it is, Peter. She’s not going to give you a hard time anymore, is she? As far as I’m concerned, that’s problem solved.” Tony wipes his hands together, like he’s free of the matter.

“That’s not the point,” Peter growls.

Tony sighs, clearly aggravated as he runs a hand through his hair and asks, “Then what is the point?”

“The point,” Peter screams, “is that you’re not my dad!”

“Oh, that’s the point, is it?” Tony’s eyes narrow. “Well, I hate to break it to you, _son,”_ he spits the word. “But I might as damn well be. Sure, I’m not in bed with your Aunt May-”

“Don’t-” Peter doesn’t get to finish.

“-but who do you think is paying your aunt’s raise, huh? You think that’s the hospital, rewarding her years of hard work? Where do you think that extra cash for your debit card is coming from? What about your tax refunds for this last year? Who do you think paid the medical bills when Aunt May had to get extra shots?” Tony steps towards Peter as he rants, growing louder with every word.

Peter takes a hesitant step back.

“And don’t even get me started on how much money I’ve poured into your college fund because I know you’re smart, Peter, invented that web fluid yourself and all, but come on. I know you wanna go to MIT. College don’t pay for itself. So yeah,” Tony flings out his arms. “I’m not your dad. I’m not even your Uncle Ben. But you better believe I’m acting like it.”

“So I’m supposed to thank you?” Peter scoffs. “All of that is just money. You can’t buy yourself a family.”

“I am _not-_ ”

“And I don’t even want your stupid money! I didn’t ask for it, did I? You can flush my college fund down the drain for all I care! I won’t use it anyway! _I don’t need you!”_ Peter’s shaking but he holds his ground.

Tony’s voice is flat, even, as he replies, “You don’t want my help. You don’t want my money. Fine.” His face hardens. “But don’t come crying to me when you’re looking for a new sugar daddy.”

“I won’t,” Peter snarls, throwing his mask back on.

He doesn’t look back.

 

Peter sends in his scores. He sends in his resume. He sends in his supplements.

He doesn’t send in that recommendation letter Mr. Stark always promised.

 

It’s not like the movies anymore, big envelopes coming in the mail and elation before the package is even opened. Getting the decision letter is a process now. It’s waiting for the college to email when the results are finally released and logging into the admissions portal and waiting for the screen to load at 6:28 while 20,000 candidates try to get their results.

They say you should be alone when you receive your decision.

Peter is inordinately glad he is. Because he reads the words, _Dear Peter, I am very sorry-_ and he loses it a little bit.

It’s a little bit of his heart stuttering and a little bit of his breath catching and a little bit of a burn in his eyes.

He skims the letter, bites his lip, and reads it three more times.

Mr. Stark will be so disappointed in him. Embarrassed by him.

_No._

Peter slams his laptop shut. Mr. Stark won’t even know this happened. They haven’t talked since the fight and after all, if there ever really was a college fund, it was clearly intended for Peter to attend MIT. Which he will not be doing.

He should have let Mr. Stark write the recommendation. But if he needed the recommendation to get in and he couldn’t do it on his own merit, maybe he shouldn’t be admitted at all.

Getting in on his own merit? It’s not like the admissions committee knows he’s Spider-Man and for a completely irrational moment, Peter is seized by the regret that he didn’t write that in his supplements. That he should have disclosed his formulas for webs, his designs for web shooters, his secret identity.

It’s easy to turn away Peter Parker but Spider-Man? They would have-

Peter shakes his head, pushing his laptop towards the end of his bed with his feet. He curls up in his hoodie, not even bothering with the bed sheets. He stoically ignores Aunt May when she knocks on his door with dinner.

He doesn’t raise his head again until May eases into his room with a plate of cookies. She nudges at his shoulder, murmuring, “I know you want one, Peter.”

The smell, fresh baked and chocolatey, finally gets him.

He sits up and May’s face softens as she takes in his red and swollen eyes. Peter takes a cookie with a small thanks and chews it as slowly as he can. It hurts to swallow past the thickness in his throat.

Peter takes another bite. Chews. Swallows.

“I didn’t get in.”

“Oh, Pete,” May sighs. She runs a hand down his arm with a sad smile. “I know that was your dream school, but it’s so hard to get into those kinds of colleges. Hardly anyone makes it in! It doesn’t mean you’re not a brilliant kid. There’s no way to know what kinds of things they’re looking for.”

“I know. I know it was long shot but-” Peter chokes. “Mr. Stark got in when he was fifteen. And I couldn’t even… I couldn’t even…”

“Oh, baby.” May pulls him to her chest and he resists for a second before giving in, leaning into her. She doesn’t say anything about his heaving breaths or dripping tears.

 

The first of May rolls around. Peter makes a decision. It’s a decision made out of partiality. It’s also a decision made out of finance.

He doesn’t regret his final choice. He just wishes he had more options.

He just wishes he could get over the sting of rejection as he commits to somewhere to spend the next four years of his life.

 

Summer is almost here. Peter has his graduation robes, his cap, his tassels.

It’s been months since he last talked to Mr. Stark. Like a hole in his heart, Peter misses him. He still pictures Mr. Stark in the bleachers with Aunt May as he walks out to receive his diploma. He thinks of the proud smile he so desperately wants to see and he thinks of the taste of failure bitter in his mouth.

He owes it to Mr. Stark, to himself, to invite him to the graduation. But that means that he’ll have to break the news.

 

Peter’s key card still works at the Avenger’s Tower. As he rides the elevator to the penthouse, his ribs tighten in anticipation of pain. They left off on such a bad note and then Peter let him down-

He didn’t let anyone down. May keeps reminding him of that.

(He doesn’t know why he’s not over it. Why isn’t he over it yet?)

The elevator dings. The doors slide open. Mr. Stark is sitting at the counter, exactly as Peter left him months ago, tablet and coffee in hand. Their eyes lock.

Mr. Stark murmurs, “I didn’t believe FRIDAY when she said it was you.”

“I- I, um-” Peter nods, looking to the ceiling as pressure builds behind his eyes and warns of tears.

Tony’s voice as he stands is soft, soothing. Forgiving. “I missed you too, kid.”

Tears drip down Peter’s face and he runs over to hug Tony. “I missed you,” he cries into his shoulder.

They stand there for a long while until Peter’s sobs die down. He keeps his face hidden in Tony’s shirt and squeezes his eyes shut. “I just- I have to tell you. I didn’t get into MIT,” he whispers into the fabric.

“You didn’t get in?” Tony sounds shocked. “I can… I can write to them. I could make them change the decision. I’m their biggest donor, they would have to-”

Peter tenses but doesn’t pull away. “No, Mr. Stark,” he says firmly. He lifts his head to meet Tony’s gaze. “If I didn’t get in, I didn’t get in. And that’s… that’s okay.”

“I… Right, of course it’s okay but…” Tony pauses. He blinks. “This is… I don’t want to lose you again, Peter. I don’t want to fight. And…” His arms tighten around Peter. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. Before. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have let you handle it on your own. I should have let you grow. I should have let you… fail just sounds so harsh, doesn’t it? But I shouldn’t have taken that away from you.

“I want what’s best for you. You know that, right, Pete? Maybe I did it the wrong way but all I want is for you to be happy. And I want us to be okay again. If you think that’s possible.” There’s a nervous undercurrent to Tony, in the minute shake of his arms and his unsteady hands.

“I want us to be okay again too.” Peter steps away from the hug, still holding loosely to Tony’s wrists. “That’s why I want you to come to my graduation.”

Tony’s smile is watery, trembling at the corners, but true. “Peter,” he lays a gentle hand on Peter’s cheek. “I would be honored.”

 

Tony and Aunt May cheer when his name is called and hand each other tissues as Peter gets his diploma. It’s a beautiful day, fun of sunshine and happy tears. Most of all, it’s a proud day. Peter hopes it’s just the first of many.

**Author's Note:**

> sooooo funny story, MIT was actually my dream school but I was deferred and then rejected so there's that (now I'm in Northeastern's honors program for engineering and I'm still SUFFERING so I guess that all worked out)
> 
> Also, it's literally my first week of college, so while I'm usually really good about responding to comments within a few day but please allow me a week or two to respond! I think it's very important to the online community for authors to take the time to respond to anyone who takes the time to leave a comment and I absolutely intend to follow through with that belief, just give me a bit of time :)


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